“I wonder if the Mages are upset, too?” another soldier asked.
“Who can tell? Though if the daughter really does have a Mage with her, that would be something, wouldn’t it?”
The second male soldier grinned. “It would be for her. You know what they say about Mages.”
Patila glowered at him. “Pig.”
The other woman was looking out the nearest porthole. “How many people have lived and died under the control of the Great Guilds? But if the daughter really has come, maybe our kids will be free.”
“Maybe we’ll live to be free,” one of the men agreed.
Mari finally spoke again, consumed by guilt as she thought about people like these risking themselves for her. “It might be hard to gain that freedom. There might be a war.”
The soldier nodded in reply, unfazed. “Yes. There’s certain to be a price. Maybe a big price. I can’t imagine the Great Guilds giving up easily, and with apologies to present company, I don’t think the Emperor is going to be thrilled at the idea of that much change, either. But we die as it is, don’t we? Dying for that… well, it might make it a lot easier.” The soldier raised his glass of wine. “To freedom, and to the daughter.”
Mari, Alain and the others raised their glasses as well, Mari wondering what the others would say if they knew the daughter was sitting with them.
But as the toast ended, the skeptical man shook his head. “I’d be as happy as anyone if she really came,” he said in a way that didn’t sound sincere to Mari, “but listen to yourselves. You’re putting your hope in someone who was wearing a Mechanics jacket and working with a Mage. Why would either of them care about what happens to us?”
“Maybe,” said Mari, “they both know that everyone deserves freedom, and that everyone will suffer if the world doesn’t change.”
“There’s nothing in the prophecy about any Mechanics, though,” the skeptic objected.
“There is,” Alain said. “The prophecy says that the daughter will unite Mages, Mechanics, and common folk to overthrow the Great Guilds.”
Patila pointed at Alain. “Yes! That’s what the guy with General Flyn said the Mage told him!”
“So,” the skeptic continued, “we’re going to base our hopes on the word of a Mage?”
“He wasn’t a normal Mage,” Patila said hotly. “All right, I know it’s silly to say normal and Mage. But every soldier with Flyn in that action said that Mage was special, that he saved their butts from the Imperials and nearly died more than once doing it.”
Alain spoke in a voice so calm that Mari feared he would give away that he was a Mage. “You are soldiers. Think of a battle, where the foot soldiers and the cavalry and the siege machines work together to achieve victory. Now think of a battle where Mages, Mechanics, and soldiers of the common folk work together as allies in one cause.”
Every eye stayed on Alain, then one of the male soldiers nodded. “That would be something. Tough to beat.”
“And suppose,” Mari added, “that the daughter used her Mechanic skills to get new weapons made, new kinds of rifles, and lots of ammunition for them.”
“That would be awesome,” Patila said. “New kinds of rifles? I’ve never heard anyone talk about different kinds of rifles. There are just the ones the Mechanics make.” She peered at Mari, puzzled. “How did you even think of something like that?”
“I heard about it,” Mari said, trying to think how to cover her tracks. “Somebody was talking and… who was that guy?” she asked Alain, hoping that he could come up with something.
Alain pretended to think. “We were not able to learn his name.”
Patila looked from one of them to the other doubtfully. “Who would talk about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t Mechanic equipment always stay the same?”
“And it doesn’t matter anyway,” the skeptic said. “Help some Mechanic overthrow the Great Guilds? A Mechanic who’s working with a Mage? They’d just set themselves in charge as soon as we got rid of the old bosses. Just a couple of new Great Guilds, that’s all. Count me out.”
“Jorge,” one of the other men began. “Anything is better than—”
“No,” Jorge interrupted. “People going crazy and rioting because they think things can’t worse? Attacking the Great Guilds because they think they can win? Everything going to blazes because people believe that some mythical daughter is going to make everything right? How is that better?” He stood up. “I need some air.”
The others watched Jorge walk out of the dining room and toward the ladder up onto the deck.
The other woman sighed. “I can’t blame him for being that way. A lot of people may feel like that. I bet the Western Alliance government will feel like that. It’s scary. Cities are already starting to pop. When the people hear about the daughter, it could get a lot worse.”
“Nobody should do anything until the daughter says it’s time,” Mari insisted.
The others nodded, but Patila eyed Mari. “Do you know when that will be?”
“No,” Mari said.
“How would she know?” one of the male soldiers asked Patila.
Once back in their cabin, Mari sat on the bed. “What do you think?”
“I think you are revealing yourself,” Alain said.
“Not on purpose,” Mari said. “That thing about the rifles was because I’m not used to talking to commons. A Mechanic would have understood. For the rest… it’s just… they need hope. You told me that!”
“I did.” Alain stood, his eyes hooded in thought. “The things they said about violence in their cities were worrisome. I have been uncertain about your decision not to announce the arrival of the daughter, but now I see the wisdom in it.”
“Now you see the wisdom in it?” Mari asked. “So, you didn’t think it was a wise decision before?”
Alain looked at her, plainly considering his words before replying. “It was your decision to make. I withheld judgment. I did not decide either way.”
“You are my husband,” Mari said. “You should assume wisdom on my part.”
Alain’s expression changed slightly, gaining a slightly puzzled air. “This is a rule of being married?”
“Yes,” Mari said. “It’s one of the rules. Assume your wife is being wise when she makes a decision or says something.”
“I did not know this. Is there a place where all of these rules are written down?” Alain asked.
“Um… I’ll tell them to you whenever you need to know one.” Mari looked at him, feeling guilty for misleading Alain. “All right. I’ll tell you the truth. There aren’t actually any written rules for being married.”
“There are not?” Alain asked, even more puzzled now. “But it is so important. You have told me the Mechanics have written rules for how to do everything.”
“Yes,” Mari admitted. “They do. Construction manuals. Operating manuals. Repair manuals. Maintenance manuals. Organizational manuals. Procedural manuals. You name it.”
“But there is no marriage manual?”
Mari frowned. “No. There ought to be. Shouldn’t there? I wish I’d thought to ask my mother about that.”
“I will trust in your wisdom, then,” Alain said.
She gave him a suspicious look. “Was that sarcasm? That better not have been sarcasm. What was that thing those commons said about Mages and women? All of the commons seemed to understand.”
Alain shook his head. “I do not know. Commons know so little of Mages that they create stories. On the matter of the rumors about Mara, the soldier may have been right that this is being deliberately pushed by the Emperor, though it is also possible that the Emperor is as superstitious as some of his people.”
Mari winced, looking down. “Mara! What did I do to deserve that?”